


Eternal Maybe

by throughthevoid



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Disorders, NOT romanticising mental disorders, implied self harm, implied suicidal tendencies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:46:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5421041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throughthevoid/pseuds/throughthevoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor learns of Clara's self-destructive tendencies. Emotional hurt/comfort with a little angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eternal Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: I am in NO WAYS romanticising self harm, mental disorders, or suicide. Love cannot fix a mental disorder. I've had experience with these things and I love you all, everyone who has ever suffered through anything. This is a story of Clara's self destructive tendencies and how the Doctor would react to them. Mental disorders are not beautiful or romantic and I want to make sure that's clear. Please don't read if it's triggering at all. Stay strong, lovelies, and thank you all <3

If someone asked her when everything started, she would have denied knowing anything. 

But no one ever asked, so she was left to wonder herself, whenever she was alone. 

Maybe it started after Danny died. She'd loved him, at least in some way; he was constant. He was normal. And it was her fault. Losing him destroyed her, made her do things she never imagined. Hurt people who didn't deserve to be hurt. 

Maybe it started after Christmas. Maybe she let those dreams get to her head, desires and hopes that only led to her misery.

Maybe it started when he regenerated. Maybe it sparked a change in her, desperate for the affection she received in a past life. Maybe she craved the attention, maybe she forced her way into a relationship to fill the Time-Lord shaped hole in her heart. 

Or maybe it started the day they met. Maybe she'd been doomed from the start. 

............................................................

Clara stumbled into the TARDIS, the Doctor's hand dragging her behind him. The blue doors slammed shut; heavy breathing and a rush of adrenaline clouded her head and she sank to her knees to catch her breath. 

"Don't-" the Doctor gasped behind her. "Don't ever do that again."

She looked up at him, hair matted with mud falling in front of her eyes. "How was I supposed to know we'd get caught? I was only curious."

Her tights were ruined, she noted. Always ruining her clothes lately, it seemed. Little patches of skin showed through the holes, covered in dirt, or blood, or both. It burned, but she didn't mind. The adrenaline high was worth it. 

"Humans, you're always touching things. Did it ever occur to you that touching giant crystalline forms encased in glass on a planet in the middle of a civil war may not be the brightest idea?" The Doctor stormed over to her, gazing down. 

"Of course I did. I'm not an idiot."

"Then why would you do it?"

"I was curious."

"Curiosity could kill you. 

"So?"

Silence. She shouldn't have said anything. 

His eyes met hers and he saw something he'd never noticed before. The hollowness, the empty glaze over her eyes. What he'd always been afraid of, what he'd always denied to be true. 

Neither dared to say a word for a while. "Come along," he spoke carefully. "You're still bleeding. Let me help." He held out his hand, hers to take. Contact was hard, but not with Clara. He'd hold her whenever she needed. 

Reluctantly she accepted what he offered. She knew she couldn't refuse; he had a duty of care. She didn't stand a chance. 

He led her down the corridors all the way to his room. Sat her on the bed, unlacing her boots, easing them off with care. Next her jacket, stained with grime and dust. 

"Taking me to your bed and undressing me, Doctor? A girl might get ideas," Clara chuckled without dedication, a feeble attempt at lightening the mood. 

He smiled sadly and tucked her hair behind her ear, assessing the damage and maybe just looking for an excuse to simply see her. She was beautiful, even damaged as she was. "I'll be right back," he promised, and disappeared the door.

............................................................

Alone, her mind was dangerous. Their adventures put her head to use and their misadventures gave her mental state a physical form- she was addicted. It was a distraction and it made her feel something; even pain was worth it. It made her feel real. Alive.

She was drowning in her thoughts until the Doctor cleared his throat; Clara jumped. She hadn't even seen him enter the room. He knelt in front of her, cloth in hand. It smelled like a hospital. Lifting her away from her thoughts, he cupped her face in one hand, tilting it gently as he dabbed a little spot of blood and traced it up to its roots. He cleaned the wound and she winced, lip between her teeth. The Doctor took his time on each cut, every bruise. Brushed the dirt away from her eyes, wiped a smudge of blood from her bottom lip. 

Her eyes fell shut. 

"Why would you do this to yourself?

They snapped opened again. She froze. 

"I don't understand."

"You let them catch you. Like you wanted them to. Why?"

She was silent for a long moment. "I didn't...that's not what happened, I just-"

"Clara."

When she looked up his eyes were locked on hers. No more running, they seemed to say. Not this time. 

She sighed deeply. "I just...I wanted to feel it. The rush, the danger."

"You can get that without risking your life."

"Not anymore!" Clara's voice rose abruptly, startling herself. Deep breath. "Not anymore. Little adventures don't...they don't do anything anymore. I can't feel them like I used to. I can't..."

He set the cloth on the end table. "Then we'll have bigger adventures. Scarier ones, even!" He grinned, an attempt at getting her to smile. "You don't have to have a near death experience to have a little fun."

"Yes I do." The Doctor frowned, and Clara closed her eyes. "It helps me feel."

"You keep saying that, but you're not making any sense. Why would you let them hurt you?"

"I didn't!"

"Clara, you fell as we were running away and you didn't even try to get up until I dragged you myself!"

"Well maybe I wanted them to hurt me, okay? Happy now?"

"No! How could I possibly be when my best friend wants wants something to hurt her?"

Clara stood abruptly, forgetting how tired her legs were and the sting of her wounds. "You just ignore it, Doctor. It's what we do. This is my life and I'll do with it as I please."

She ran, as she always did, but didn't get far before the Doctor had a hold on her wrist. 

"It may be your life but I am not letting throw it away." They were standing face to face and he walked her back to the bed, sitting down beside her. She was excruciatingly silent. 

"And why not?

And there it was, the line the never crossed, always tiptoeing around it, dancing on the edge of that unspoken confession. 

"I...have a duty of care," he started, looking down at his hands. They were shaking- was he nervous? Mad? Just old? "And as much as it hurts, I... I can't let you travel with me if you've been greeting death with open arms. It's dangerous and I...I can't lose you. I can't."

She felt tears pool in her eyes- when was the last time she'd cried? She couldn't remember. "You'll lose me either way, in the end. Maybe you've already lost me. I've already lost myself."

He sighed, took her hand in his; so frail, like glass or paper or butterfly wings. "Traveling with me, it...it gives you this suicidal intoxication." The words were glue in his mouth. "You're hurting but you're not, and you'll do anything to fix that. I should have seen it before. You don't want to die, you just...don't care. You don't care if you live because sometimes it doesn't seem worth it." This had been so much harder than he'd thought. 

Clara blinked slowly, choking back tears. When he'd spoken, everything became so real; he'd seen right through her. For minutes, she was silent, and he gave her all the time she needed. He'd give her anything. 

"After...after Danny," she began, her voice hoarse. She couldn't do this, she couldn't stand it. "After Danny, and my mum, and everyone else who's ever died because of me...they didn't deserve it." More tears. Wonderful. "And I...the guilt, Doctor. It hurts. And after Danny you lied and I did too and I was alone. For months I was alone and I missed everyone, and no one came to help because no one was there."

She knew her guilt must have seemed silly compared to what he had experienced, but she witnessed the change in him as she spoke. He'd had absolutely no idea she felt this way. 

"Clara...why didn't you tell me? You could have called my name and I'd have been there." Clara wondered if he was trying to confess something, but maybe that way just wishful thinking. 

"I didn't want to trouble you."

"Clara Oswald, you could never trouble me. I love you too dearly."

She inhaled sharply. She'd always hoped it to be true, but hearing the words sounded unreal. This was a dream, or a hallucination, or she'd died already. “Doctor…”

"I mean it. Live for me, Clara. Love your life for me. I'm here."

For a second there was silence until Clara collapsed against his chest, and he tensed momentarily, caught by surprise. But soon his arms were around her, his face buried in her hair, and he was holding her fiercely.

She was crying and he realised that so was he; slowly he eased her to lie back and he joined her, holding her in his arms, shielding her from the world and whatever had made her into this. He knew guilt, he knew loneliness, and the very thought of her feeling any of it made him furious. It made him want to keep her safe. He kissed her hair, her forehead, her nose and each teardrop that trailed down her cheeks. He kissed each eyelid softly, as if kissing away the tears and all the pain she had ever felt. He kissed every inch of her face, and then her lips. It was tender and chaste, and nothing more. Not tonight. Tonight he would love her, but he would love more than her body. No amount of physical love could ease her pain. 

Eventually her sobbing faded and she was left crying softly, struggling for breath. He stroked her back in soothing circles, a rhythm he knew well. "I can't fix you, Clara. I can only help so much. But I swear to you that I will never leave. Please, promise you'll try. Promise you'll love yourself."

Clara nodded, but they both knew only time would tell. For now, though, he could hold her. For now he could love her, for now they had each other. At least in this moment, they could forget. 

And he could only pray this moment would last forever.


End file.
